


Funeral Fragments

by ana



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Family, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:56:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ana/pseuds/ana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Events surrounding Aral's funeral</p><p>(and here's what happened one year later when Aral summons his family - <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2569814">Unalloyed Happiness</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Funeral Fragments

Tomorrow was the final stage. Tomorrow was the end.

The interment at Vorkosigan Surleau would bring the week-long state funeral to a close; although the preparations for it seemed to have gone on forever - especially to the Vorkosigans.  

It had been an invasion of privacy and time for those close to the Count that was. And as much as Lady Alys knew it had to be done, meeting all the galactic mourners and delegations wanting to pay their respects, she and Ekaterin had scheduled protected time for Vorkosigan House; for at least two precious hours each day the Vorkosigan family ate lunch or dinner together - with no interruptions.

“Aral would approve,” Cordelia had said, giving Alys a knowing look.

“But of course, I’m stealing his idea.”

“You have a long memory, Alys.”

“Yes…the family blessing,” she said a touch dryly.

“And curse?” Cordelia asked. They exchanged wry smiles.

***

Long before the state funeral and even during the week-long state services, they were taking it in paired shifts to meet and greet the endless stream of visitors to the House.  Mark had called it Condolence Duty and the name had stuck.

Mark had tried to escape his shifts by pointing out that not only did he not know most of these people, but that most of them didn’t regard him as a ‘real’ Vorkosigan anyway.  Aunt Alys’s reaction had been to tell him that he would just have to get over it.  This had surprised Mark so much he never complained again – not in his aunt’s earshot anyway.

But all these mourners wanted to do was tell him they knew his father better than he did.  Alright, they weren’t that blunt, they dressed it up, but that’s what it came down to.  Mark bitterly amused himself by judging what the reaction would be if he told them the truth:  _I know him better than you think. I studied him so I could assassinate him - would you like more tea?_  
   
When he had told Kareen she had laughed and said, “That’s not very realistic.  You would never offer anyone tea.”

So Mark spent a lot of time nodding, pretending to listen and timing it so he could leave the room without facing one of Aunt Alys’s _get back in there_ looks.  She was truly omniscient; she once told him to get something to eat as he hadn’t eaten all day.  She was right but he hadn’t seen her all day - _how did she know?_ When he had made this observation to Ivan, he wasn’t surprised.  Ivan just shrugged and said, “Yeah, that’s my mother.”

But, of course, the people these mourners wanted to see were his mother or Miles.   His mother did her fair share of the condolence shifts, but she spent most of her time with the kids or in the library.  Miles had taken to disappearing - a lot.  

Miles had aged in every way.  Everything about him was slower, the way he talked, walked - everything.  He looked like he had the weight of Barrayar on his shoulders.  His condolence slot was being picked up again and again by Ivan.  

Ivan was picking up duties all over the place and even volunteering.  And anything Miles would ask him to do he would do, without complaint. Miles wasn’t grateful, though, when their mother had asked him to ease up on Ivan, Miles had refused.  “He can say no whenever he likes.  When I get my cousin back, I’ll stop.  Let him take his misplaced guilt somewhere else.”

Mark wasn’t sure if it was guilt that was driving Ivan, but Mark didn’t want to ask.  He didn’t want to talk to anyone. Mark wanted to grab Kareen and leave.  

***

As they all sat down to lunch, everyone noticed that Helen and Alex weren’t speaking to each other. This was obvious because when Alex spoke, Helen didn’t interrupt.  This meant a Helen explosion was likely, but it was always best to wait it out.  Lizzie, well, you could never really tell what Lizzie was thinking.  She was presently preoccupied with moving her vegetables to one side of her plate and singing to herself.  

Ivan was observing it all with a certain amount of detachment.  His mother was trying not to look at the chrono and failing; Miles was pretending to eat, and Ekaterin was pretending not to notice; Mark and Kareen were whispering to each other (probably planning their rapid exit off Barrayar), and Aunt Cordelia wasn’t at the table,  she had already left for Vorkosigan Surleau. The interment was tomorrow.  Simon, Ivan suddenly noticed, was watching him with a look of concern.  Ivan gave him a mock salute and a half smile; Simon nodded in return but the look was still there.

“It’s not fair!” Helen burst out suddenly.  “If Alex is Lord Vorkosigan, I want to be Lady Vorkosigan!”

All eyes turned to Helen.

“Then I will be Lady Helen,” Ekaterin said smoothly.

Miles and Ekaterin had explained to the children about the sudden name changes, but they knew Helen was wilfully not having any of it.  

Helen’s eyes widened.  “But _I’m_ Lady Helen-“

“And if you’re Lady Vorkosigan,” Miles said.  “People will think you’re married to your brother.”

Helen looked at her brother and pulled a face.  “No they won’t…”

“Papa,” Lizzie said suddenly looking up.  “If you die will Sasha be Count?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Alex, Lizzie!” Helen stated. “ _Not_ Sasha. I _told_ you.”  

Lizzie ignored her sister and asked her papa, “If Sasha dies will Helen be Count?”

“I don’t want to be Count!” Helen said.

“Helen can’t be Count,” Alex said softly to Lizzie.  “She’s a girl.”

“And I don’t want to get a penis,” Helen stated indignantly. “Uncle Mark said Uncle Dono had to get one from Beta Colony.”

Ivan choked on his wine and grabbed a napkin.  “Sorry…went wrong way,” he gasped.

Not that he was heard over Mark’s protestations, Kareen’s laughter and Helen shaking her head saying, “Yes you did, yes you did, didn’t he Alex, didn’t he? You said Uncle Dono went to – went to Beta Colony and – _what?_ ”  Alex was now whispering something to Helen, his eyes wide and Helen suddenly piped, “May I be excused?”

“No, you may not,” Miles said, holding up a hand for Mark to shut up.  

“We’ll talk about your Uncle Dono later,” Ekaterin said. “But first…Helen, where were you when your Uncle Mark said this?”

Helen mumbled something and Ekaterin asked her to repeat it.  “This room,” she said grudgingly, shifting in her seat.

“ _Where_ in this room?” Miles asked.

Alex tugged at Helen’s sleeve and whispered, “Told you.” Ivan could hear him clearly because he was seated opposite him

Helen sat up and raised her chin.  “We was under the table but - but - we were playing hide and go seek and Lizzie was taking ages and - and - we couldn’t say anything cos Lizzie would’ve found us - it was Lizzie’s fault- Lizzie’s so slow!”

Lizzie looked at her sister and then at Miles.   “Are you as old as Grandfather Aral?”

“No, Lizzie.”

Lizzie turned to her mother.  “Are you old as Grandfather Aral, mama?”

“No, I’m not.”

Ivan wondered what conclusion she’d drawn from those answers, but all Lizzie said next was:

“I need to pee, papa.”

“Go then, love.”

Lizzie bolted from the table.   Ekaterin then wearily amended her previous lecture to Helen and Alex by adding that there was no excuse not to tell anyone they were under the table or in a room - no matter what game they were planning.   

“What if they are kidnappers?” Helen asked with a defiant look – a look which melted under one of Ekaterin’s stares.  Helen backed down and carried on eating.  Ivan doubted they had heard the last of this.

Everyone had been warned about checking the room for the Vorkosigan kids; Mark, though, wasn’t used to it.  He wasn’t used to the children at all.  And much to Ivan’s amusement, Mark found Lizzie’s affection terrifying.  Lizzie was very tactile and assaulted her nearest and dearest by constantly hugging them to her bony, child frame. Everyone adored her affectionate nature, but Mark found it uncomfortable.  So Ivan told Lizzie that her Uncle Mark loved her hugs so much she should hug him whenever she got the chance…

After the children had departed, Ekaterin moved Lizzie’s napkin and found all her vegetables.

Ivan stared at the plate with a small laugh.  “Do you think it was all a conspiracy so we would be distracted and Lizzie wouldn’t have to eat her veg?”  

Ekaterin smiled.  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

But she was looking at Miles, still seated at the table, staring into space.

***  
   
_Vorkosigan Surleau_

The children were asleep and most people had left.  His Aunt Cordelia was sat by the lake in the semi-darkness; Ivan could just make her out from the veranda.  He had wanted to ask her about his uncle, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do it.   He suddenly recalled one of her sayings, _‘If you don’t ask, you don’t get,’_ but he’d never been one to ask her - for anything; maybe it was too soon to ask…or maybe it was too late.

He returned to the main room where the stragglers had congregated: his mother and Simon, the Vorbrettens, Ekaterin and, of course, Miles; no one would leave until Miles did.  Mark and Kareen were still around too but out in the grounds somewhere.  It was quiet.  The conversation in the room was punctuated with weary silences; everyone was exhausted and, surprisingly, mostly sober.  

“We should have had music,” Miles murmured tiredly to no one in particular. He had his head tilted back against the chair and his eyes closed

“You said you didn’t want any,” Ekaterin pointed out with a yawn.

“I didn’t want any laments,” Miles said, “mother agreed.”

“Everything would have sounded like a lament,” Simon said quietly and Ivan turned away as his mother and Simon began to be a touch too tactile with each other - well, too tactile for his liking.  

“Maybe not Barrayar,” Ivan said, surprising himself that he had said it out loud.  Everyone looked at him and Tatya asked softly, “Eve’s Barrayar?”

He shrugged.  “Just a suggestion, I don’t know what music he likes,” he checked himself, “would have liked.”  _Past tense, everything about him is now past tense…_

“Eve’s Barrayar?” Miles asked.  “I don’t remember it.”

“We’d left the Birthday Ball by then,” Ekaterin said, looking at Miles thoughtfully. “I’d heard it sung in rehearsals.” And then she turned to Ivan. “Do you mind accessing it?”

Ivan shook his head.  Ekaterin seemed reluctant to leave Miles’s side, all the couples he noticed were like that.  Had they always been like that?  He couldn’t recall.  
       
It didn’t take Ivan long to pull it off the vid net.  He opened the doors so he could hear it outside, and so no one could see him, the chorus sounding more melancholy than it ever had:

  
_Ah but let me tell you that I love you_  
And I think about you all the time  
Barrayar you're calling me and now I'm going home  
But if I should become a stranger  
You know that it would make me more than sad  
Barrayar's been everything I've ever had*  
***

Cordelia heard the song clearly; her first thought was that it would wake the children. But as the lyrics pulled at her, her thoughts drifted to the contradictory, entangled emotions Aral had always had for Barrayar, and stronger than that - to his unwavering loyalty for his home, for his family. Loyalty…a kind of love, she supposed, with all its own thorns.  

In that way she saw Miles as definitely his father’s son; loyal no matter what love and hate Barrayar engendered.  Perhaps that was too simplistic, but then love and hate were never simple.

She looked across the grounds to where the graves lay, and then to the house where Miles, Ekaterin and the children were still waiting.  Aral, surrounded by all his family - the dead and the living…

She let out a long breath and a ghost of a smile…

_You’re home now Aral, you’re home…now rest._

**Author's Note:**

> *These are not my words and this is not my song but the whole song has always reminded me of Miles. This is a beautiful song called Caledonia (I just changed the name to Barrayar). The music & Lyrics are by Dougie MacLean and the song is published by Limetree Arts and Music. This song has been covered by numerous artists, male and female, with variations in the lyrics.  
> Two versions: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wP8A9rtg0iI&feature=related  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9oZsCzOVuUI
> 
> A year after Aral's funeral he summons them - [Unalloyed Happiness](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2569814)


End file.
